My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 22

Samuel's pov

The conference room buzzed with low conversations and the clinking of coffee cups as the meeting wrapped up. I sat back, my mind racing through the details of the day's discussions. Bruckner's name had come up several times, and each mention of him made my stomach churn with a mix of anger and determination. I needed to make moves, and fast. Time wasn’t on my side, and the pieces on the board had to fall perfectly for me to get what I wanted.

As I gathered my things, a tap on my shoulder startled me. I turned to find a familiar face standing there—Clara. We hadn’t spoken in a while, but seeing her here, so far from where I expected, threw me off for a second. She looked sharp, her presence commanding the space effortlessly, but with an air of warmth that put people at ease.

"Samuel," she greeted me, her smile as polished as ever.

"Clara," I responded, trying to keep my tone neutral despite the mild surprise. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

"Funny how small the world is, isn’t it?" she quipped, her eyes locking onto mine with a spark of familiarity. "How's business?"

"Busy," I said, returning the smile, though internally, I was already weighing how this encounter could work to my advantage.

We exchanged a few pleasantries before naturally drifting into deeper conversation. Clara was quick-witted, smooth in her words, and seemingly harmless. But I knew better than to take anything at face value. With Bruckner as her indirect connection, I had to tread carefully, but at the same time, I couldn’t resist poking at the edges to see what she knew.

"So," I said casually as the conversation shifted toward the industry landscape, "what’s Bruckner been up to lately? I hear he’s been making waves."

Clara’s expression barely flickered, but I caught the brief pause in her response. "Oh, you know, Jake’s always working on something big. He doesn’t sleep unless he's plotting his next power move."

That was the opening I needed. I nodded along, pushing gently for more details while keeping the tone light, even flirtatious at times. It wasn’t hard—Clara had always been easy to talk to, and she played along, either not noticing or not caring that I was prying. The more I engaged with her, the more I found myself falling into the rhythm of it. There was a subtle electricity between us, a back-and-forth that blurred the lines. I knew what I was doing, but a part of me also knew it was wrong.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself.

By the end of the day, I’d gleaned some useful information about Bruckner’s next moves—nothing concrete, but enough to piece together a strategy. I could tell Clara felt good about the conversation, too. She lingered as we said our goodbyes, her hand brushing against my arm in a way that wasn’t entirely professional.

Back in my hotel room that evening, I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone, dialing Fiona’s number. Hearing her voice grounded me.

"Hey," she greeted, her tone warm and familiar.

"Hey, just wanted to check in. How are things?" I asked, leaning back against the headboard.

We talked for a while, our conversation meandering through the usual updates and small talk. Fiona had a way of making everything feel stable, even when the world around me felt like it was spiraling out of control.

"You’ll be back tomorrow, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I’ll be back," I assured her, already picturing our reunion.

I meant it. I really did. But the moment I hung up, my phone buzzed again—this time, it was Clara. Her voice was light, casual, but there was something in the way she framed her invitation that made it impossible to refuse. She wanted to meet up, to discuss something that could be pivotal in my plan against Bruckner. I couldn’t say no. I knew I should’ve told Fiona, but by the time I crawled into bed, exhaustion had settled over me like a heavy blanket, and I let sleep take me instead.